Micron

Travian Gaul Warrior - Poem by Micron

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I sit upon on this low wallI am your loyal Travian GaulI've come to life from the computer gameA retired Phalanx hero now, that's my fameReplaced when the Haeduan was trainedThis village is my home as so I stayedDense clouds of dust are coming nearerAnd the number of Romans will soon be clearerRomans first appear from the dust like little antsThey grow larger and soon I can hear their chants Now they are here with their metal helmetsWith their fancy armour and glistening armletsAnd as the Romans cries of attack are heardI look upwards and see a huge birdFlying free in the bright blue sunlight skyRomans keep attacking us -oh why… oh why? Our defences are down, we were attacked unawareAnd now defenceless villagers can only hide and stareFor our own troops are out defending others nowAnd our attackers are farming for this we allowThere's a crash as rams hit our palisadeThat my friends and I - oh so carefully madeWood snaps and breaks, splinters flyOh well I suppose we did gave it a tryMy eyes turn to the bird now turning right As soaring trebuchet rocks disturb his flightHuge rocky boulders quickly fallThey came straight up and over our matchstick wallLanding in the middle of our town hall roofAnd as mad as it sounds its the truthOld wizened Gauls, pour out of the wreckageHolding their drinks so there is no spillageDrunkenly rejoicing no one was killedAnd with spare resources and gold they now rebuildWith haste from shattered wood appears a level 1 follyBack in the Town hall they follow mollyThe party resumed your hear their joyful delightNo one will stop this party, which will go on into nightNow Romans pour in through the gap in the wallThey find 200 traps in which they do fallSkidding along boar fat spread on the groundThese trapped troops are useful we've foundFor poking the Romans with poison ivy tipped sticks you seeWill give lots of fun for all villagers and meLater they will be released as they learnFrom the itching and scratching so they wont returnRomans avoiding filled traps rush on byFor give them their due- they always tryDisturbing Pigeons and Doves who take flightThey approach and we are now in their sightThe Romans are many and we are so fewBut they change their direction and this is trueTo plunder our resources, so that's why they're hereTo raid our granary and warehouse we find dearBut nothing they find and this we find funnyNot a single grain of wheat or any moneyFor before they arrived the merchants went outThey left on the first sound of that attack shoutA second before the first attack landed hereThe merchants were out and no longer nearThey will get no recourses and will wonder whyThey never will however hard they tryFor deep in our village so carefully hiddenIn a place so secret to say where is forbiddenUnder a trees and a rocks so they sayIs lots of wheat, wood, iron and clay